لَوif عَلِمَتshe knew أَيَّwhat فَتىًyoung man ماجِدِnoble
لَو عَلِمَت أَيَّ فَتىً ماجِدِ
ذاتُshe of اللَمىdark lips وَالشَنَبِand pearly teeth البارِدِcool
ذاتُ اللَمى وَالشَنَبِ البارِدِ
If she knew what a noble youth I am,
If only those rosy cheeks and that cool mustache
she of the dark lips and cool, pearly teeth,
Knew which gallant man kept his word,
لَمّاwould not وَفىkept faith ليwith me مَوعِديmy threatener بِالنَوىwith separation
لَمّا وَفى لي مَوعِدي بِالنَوى
مِنwithout غَيرِany ذَنبٍfault وَوَفىand kept faith وَاِعِديmy promiser
مِن غَيرِ ذَنبٍ وَوَفى وَاِعِدي
my threatener would not have fulfilled his threat of separation,
Without wrongdoing, and fulfilled his promise to me,
though I was blameless, and my promiser would have kept faith.
Like a pliant branch, yet doing the acts of a bending stalk,
كَالغُصنِlike a branch مَهزوزاًshaken وَلَكِنَّهُyet he
كَالغُصنِ مَهزوزاً وَلَكِنَّهُ
يَفعَلُhe does فِعلَthe deed of الخَطِلِthe foolish one المائِدِswaying
يَفعَلُ فِعلَ الخَطِلِ المائِدِ
Like a shaken branch, yet he
You led my heart astray in you deliberately, and so
acts like a swaying fool.
Vengeance is certain for the pillar.
أَضلَلتَyou led astray قَلبيmy heart فيكَin you عَمداًdeliberately وَقَدand indeed
أَضلَلتَ قَلبي فيكَ عَمداً وَقَد
تَعَيَّنَbecame due الثَأرُvengeance عَلىagainst العامِدِthe deliberate wrongdoer
تَعَيَّنَ الثَأرُ عَلى العامِدِ
You deliberately made my heart lose its way in you; and now
Is there then any hope for the one whom I misled,
vengeance is due against the deliberate wrongdoer.
Or any who found what I wasted?
فَهَلso is there لِماfor what أَضلَلتَyou lost مِنany ناشِدٍseeker
فَهَل لِما أَضلَلتَ مِن ناشِدٍ
وَهَلand is there لِماfor what ضَيَّعتَyou squandered مِنany واجِدِfinder
وَهَل لِما ضَيَّعتَ مِن واجِدِ
So is there anyone to seek what you have lost,
Our hearts are tied to you
and anyone to find what you have squandered?
By the knot of that tight binder.
قُلوبُناour hearts عِندَكَwith you مَعقودَةٌbound
قُلوبُنا عِندَكَ مَعقودَةٌ
بِطَرفِby the gaze of ذاكَthat الشادِنِyoung gazelle العاقِدِthe binder
بِطَرفِ ذاكَ الشادِنِ العاقِدِ
Our hearts are bound in your keeping
Did you release us, then folded its end back?
by the gaze of that young gazelle who binds them.
The gazelle turns to the hunter.
أَفلَتَناhe released us ثُمَّthen ثَنىturned back طَرفَهُhis gaze
أَفلَتَنا ثُمَّ ثَنى طَرفَهُ
تَلَفُّتَa backward glance الظَبيِthe gazelle إِلىtoward الصائِدِthe hunter
تَلَفُّتَ الظَبيِ إِلى الصائِدِ
He let us escape, then turned his gaze back,
The debauched one was not fair when he glanced,
with a gazelle's backward glance toward the hunter.
When he saw in us the devotion of a worshipper.
ماnot أَنصَفَwas fair الفاسِقُthe libertine فيin لَحظِهِhis glance
ما أَنصَفَ الفاسِقُ في لَحظِهِ
لَمّاwhen أَراناhe showed us عِفَّةَthe chastity of العابِدِthe worshipper
لَمّا أَرانا عِفَّةَ العابِدِ
The libertine was not fair in his glance
Glory in love has humiliation,
when he showed us a worshipper's chastity.
And deficient love leads to increase.
تَعَزُّزُpride الحُبَّlove لَهُbefore it ذِلَّةٌabasement
تَعَزُّزُ الحُبَّ لَهُ ذِلَّةٌ
وَناقِصُand dwindling الحُبِّlove إِلىtoward زائِدِincrease
وَناقِصُ الحُبِّ إِلى زائِدِ
Pride in love is abasement before it,
One is envied for his pleasures,
and dwindling love turns toward increase.
And love is sweet without any envious.
وَالمَرءُand a man مَحسودٌenvied بِلَذّاتِهِfor his pleasures
وَالمَرءُ مَحسودٌ بِلَذّاتِهِ
وَالحُبُّand love مَلذوذٌsavored بِلاwithout حاسِدِan envier
وَالحُبُّ مَلذوذٌ بِلا حاسِدِ
A man is envied for his pleasures,
O gentle smiler, wet my thirst
and love is savored without an envier.
With a drink from your cool saliva.
ياO عَذبَةَsweet of المَبسِمِmouth بُلّيmoisten الجَوىthe burning longing
يا عَذبَةَ المَبسِمِ بُلّي الجَوى
بِنَهلَةٍwith a draught مِنof ريقِكِyour saliva الصارِدِcold
بِنَهلَةٍ مِن ريقِكِ الصارِدِ
O sweet-mouthed one, quench the burning ache
I see a muddy pond, does that water
with a draught of your cool saliva.
Have any one coming to it?
أَرىI see غَديراًa pool شَبِماًcold ماؤُهُits water
أَرى غَديراً شَبِماً ماؤُهُ
فَهَلso is there لِذاكَfor that الماءِwater مِنany وارِدِone coming to drink
فَهَل لِذاكَ الماءِ مِن وارِدِ
I see a pool whose water is cold:
Is there anyone who brings me
is there anyone to come to that water?
Honey melting amidst solid cold?
مَنwho ليfor me بِهِwith it مِنof عَسَلٍhoney ذائِبٍmolten
مَن لي بِهِ مِن عَسَلٍ ذائِبٍ
يَجريflows خِلالَamid البَرَدِthe hailstones الجامِدِfrozen
يَجري خِلالَ البَرَدِ الجامِدِ
Who will bring it to me—molten honey
I am the son of one who had no ancestors,
flowing between frozen hailstones?
No one was among the outstanding warriors.
أَناI اِبنُthe son of مَنone who لَيسَthere is not بِجَدٍّas a forebear لَهُfor him
أَنا اِبنُ مَن لَيسَ بِجَدٍّ لَهُ
مَنone who لَمnot يَكُنwas بِالماجِدِnoble الجائِدِgenerous
مَن لَم يَكُن بِالماجِدِ الجائِدِ
I am the son of one who had no forebear
And he was not among his fathers’ lineage
who was not noble and generous.
Except the long-armed and strong-muscled.
وَلَمand not يَكُنthere was فيin سِلكِthe line of آبائِهِhis fathers
وَلَم يَكُن في سِلكِ آبائِهِ
غَيرُother than طَويلِlong of الباعِreach وَالساعِدِand forearm
غَيرُ طَويلِ الباعِ وَالساعِدِ
And in the line of his fathers there was none
Fate has milked its udders,
but men of long reach and forearm.
And pursued the strayer with the pursuer.
قَدhas حَلَبَmilked الدَهرَTime أَفاويقَهُits successive milk-yields
قَد حَلَبَ الدَهرَ أَفاويقَهُ
وَأَتبَعَand followed up الشارِدَthe fugitive بِالطارِدِwith the pursuer
وَأَتبَعَ الشارِدَ بِالطارِدِ
He has milked Time, yield after yield,
For us are the mountains, the firewood lifted high,
and set the pursuer after the fugitive.
From which the climber’s foot slips.
لَناours are الجِبالُthe mountains القودُtall مَرفوعَةًraised high
لَنا الجِبالُ القودُ مَرفوعَةً
تَزِلُّslips عَنهاfrom them قَدَمُthe foot of الصاعِدِthe climber
تَزِلُّ عَنها قَدَمُ الصاعِدِ
Ours are the tall mountains, raised high,
For us are the horses, their skulls are lovely,
from which the climber's foot slips.
Against the enemy with prolonged galloping.
لَناours are الجِيادُthe steeds القُبُّlean-bellied أَخّاذَةٌseizing the lead
لَنا الجِيادُ القُبُّ أَخّاذَةٌ
عَلىover العِدىthe foes بِالأَمَدِby a distance الزائِدِgreater
عَلى العِدى بِالأَمَدِ الزائِدِ
Ours are the lean-bellied steeds that seize
For us are the spears and white swords, tamed
the lead over foes by a greater distance.
In striking, though sheathed by the scabbard’s hand.
لَناours are القَناthe spears وَالبيضُand the bright swords مِطواعَةٌobedient
لَنا القَنا وَالبيضُ مِطواعَةٌ
فيin الضَربِstriking يَعصينَthey defy يَدَthe hand of الغامِدِthe sheather
في الضَربِ يَعصينَ يَدَ الغامِدِ
Ours are the spears and bright swords, obedient
For us are the lions, triumphant in their dens,
in striking, but defying the hand that would sheath them.
Among the ferocious and the energetic,
لَناours are الأُسودُthe lions الغُلبُthick-necked فيin غِيلِهاtheir thickets
لَنا الأُسودُ الغُلبُ في غِيلِها
مِنof ثائِرٍone roused بَأساًin ferocity وَمِنand of لابِدِone lying in wait
مِن ثائِرٍ بَأساً وَمِن لابِدِ
Ours are the thick-necked lions in their thickets,
From a lion advanced in years,
some roused to ferocity, and some lying in wait;
And from a near-aged youthful lion.
مِنof أَسَدٍa lion طالَgrew long بِهِfor him عُمرُهُhis lifespan
مِن أَسَدٍ طالَ بِهِ عُمرُهُ
وَمِنand of قَريبِyoung in العُمرِyears مُستاسِدِlionlike
وَمِن قَريبِ العُمرِ مُستاسِدِ
some lions whose lives have grown long,
O you who blame me ignorantly,
and some young in years, already lionlike.
Beware of my spying eye.
يَأَيَّهاO you العائِبُthe fault-finder ليof me جَهلَةًin ignorance
يَأَيَّها العائِبُ لي جَهلَةً
حَذارِbeware مِنof أَرقَميmy speckled serpent الراصِدِlying in wait
حَذارِ مِن أَرقَمي الراصِدِ
O you who fault me in ignorance,
I put forth my vow, and I have might
beware my lurking speckled serpent.
That scares off sleep from the slumberer,
أُقَدِّمُI send ahead النَذرَwarnings وَليand I have سَطوَةٌan onslaught
أُقَدِّمُ النَذرَ وَلي سَطوَةٌ
تُنَفِّرُdrives away النَومَsleep عَنِfrom الراقِدِthe sleeper
تُنَفِّرُ النَومَ عَنِ الراقِدِ
I send warnings ahead; mine is an onslaught
Like the flash of lightning passing by
that drives sleep away from the sleeper,
That does away with the roar of thunder.
كَلَمعَةِlike a flash of البارِقِlightning مُجتازَةًpassing
كَلَمعَةِ البارِقِ مُجتازَةً
تَقضيputs an end عَلىto زَمجَرَةِthe roar of الراعِدِthe thunderer
تَقضي عَلى زَمجَرَةِ الراعِدِ
like a passing flash of lightning
If you have not tried me striking,
that silences the thunderer's roar.
Then wait for what comes from my arm.
إِنif كُنتَyou were ماnot جَرَّبتَنيyou tested me ضارِباًas a striker
إِن كُنتَ ما جَرَّبتَني ضارِباً
فَاِصبِرthen endure لِماfor what جاءَكَhas come to you مِنfrom ساعِديmy forearm
فَاِصبِر لِما جاءَكَ مِن ساعِدي
If you have not tested me as a striker,
And here is my palm spread open for you,
then endure what comes to you from my forearm.
The palm of the camel returning to pasture.
وَهاكَand take مِنfrom كَفِّيَmy palm مَفروجَةًgaping
وَهاكَ مِن كَفِّيَ مَفروجَةً
فَرجَthe opening of القَباthe robe مَوسِيَةَdistressing العائِدِthe visitor to the sick
فَرجَ القَبا مَوسِيَةَ العائِدِ
And take from my palm a gaping wound,
How much delight has faded,
wide as a robe's slit, grieving those who visit.
With the sting of the envious scorpion!
رُبُّmany a نَعيمٍbliss زالَvanished رَيعانُهُits bloom
رُبُّ نَعيمٍ زالَ رَيعانُهُ
بِلَسعَةٍthrough a sting مِنfrom عَقرَبِthe scorpion of الحاسِدِthe envier
بِلَسعَةٍ مِن عَقرَبِ الحاسِدِ
Many a joy has lost its bloom
I am one who expends from my blade
through a sting from the envier's scorpion.
As much as I expend from my birth.
أَناI الَّذيthe one who أَبذُلُI give freely مِنof طارِفيmy newly gained wealth
أَنا الَّذي أَبذُلُ مِن طارِفي
مِثلَjust like الَّذيwhat أَبذُلُI give freely مِنof تالِديmy inherited wealth
مِثلَ الَّذي أَبذُلُ مِن تالِدي
I am he who gives of my newly gained wealth
I have no manliness for the complaining weakling,
just as I give of my inherited wealth.
Nor any branch for the one seeking support.
ماnot مَروَتيmy flint لِلناحِتِfor the carver المُنتَحيtaking aim
ما مَروَتي لِلناحِتِ المُنتَحي
يَوماًever وَلاnor غُصنِيَmy branch لِلعاضِدِfor the lopper
يَوماً وَلا غُصنِيَ لِلعاضِدِ
My flint will not yield to the carver who assails it,
I strive for a people who sat high up;
ever, nor my branch to the lopper.
How much the striver increases the sitter!
أَسعىI strive لِقَومٍfor a people قَعَدواthey sat فيin العُلىthe heights
أَسعى لِقَومٍ قَعَدوا في العُلى
ماhow أَكثَرَnumerous الساعيthe striver إِلىtoward القاعِدِthe seated one
ما أَكثَرَ الساعي إِلى القاعِدِ
I strive for a people seated in the heights—
I am one whose attack widens,
how many strive toward one who sits!
Repelling the shields from the assailant.
أَناI الَّذيthe one who يوسِعُهاgives it ample scope جَولَةًa charge
أَنا الَّذي يوسِعُها جَولَةً
تُجَفِّلُscatters الذَودَthe small camel herd عَنِaway from الذائِدِthe defender
تُجَفِّلُ الذَودَ عَنِ الذائِدِ
I am he who sweeps through it in a charge
I am one whose shoulders tread upon it;
that scatters the camel herd away from its defender.
No spear in my hands ever softens.
أَناI الَّذيthe one who يوطِىءُbrings underfoot أَكتافَهاits shoulders
أَنا الَّذي يوطِىءُ أَكتافَها
ماas long as رَنَّrings رُمحٌa spear بِيَدَيin the two hands of مارِدِa defiant one
ما رَنَّ رُمحٌ بِيَدَي مارِدِ
I am he who brings its shoulders underfoot,
I am one who kindles its horizons,
as long as a spear rings in a defiant warrior's hands.
As if they are ignited embers.
أَناI الَّذيthe one who يُضرِمُsets ablaze آفاقَهاits horizons
أَنا الَّذي يُضرِمُ آفاقَها
كَأَنَّهاas though it were مَعمَعَةُthe roaring blaze of الواقِدِthe fire-kindler
كَأَنَّها مَعمَعَةُ الواقِدِ
I am he who sets its horizons ablaze,
I am one who inflames its heroes
as though it were a fire-kindler's roaring blaze.
With a strike like the arrival of a laden camel.
أَناI الَّذيthe one who يوجِرُforces to swallow أَبطالَهاits champions
أَنا الَّذي يوجِرُ أَبطالَها
ضَرباًblows كَخَبطِlike the stamping of الجَمَلِthe camel الوارِدِcoming to water
ضَرباً كَخَبطِ الجَمَلِ الوارِدِ
I am he who makes its champions swallow
I am not for the lofty if there was not
blows like the stamping of a camel coming to water.
From my children what was from my father.
ماnot أَناI لِلعَلياءِfor lofty glory إِنif لَمnot يَكُنthere is
ما أَنا لِلعَلياءِ إِن لَم يَكُن
مِنfrom وَلَديmy offspring ماwhat كانَthere was مِنfrom والِديmy father
مِن وَلَدي ما كانَ مِن والِدي
I am not fit for the heights if there is not
Nor did the horses walk with me if I did not mount
from my offspring what there was from my father.
The throne of this glorious conqueror.
وَلاand may not مَشَتwalk بِيَwith me الخَيلُthe horses إِنif لَمnot أَطَأI tread on
وَلا مَشَت بِيَ الخَيلُ إِن لَم أَطَأ
سَريرَthe throne of هَذاthis الأَغلَبِthe mighty one الماجِدِthe noble
سَريرَ هَذا الأَغلَبِ الماجِدِ
And may horses never carry me if I do not tread
So if I do reach it, it is as I threw it;
the throne of this mighty, noble man.
Or else my guide may prove me wrong.
فَإِنso if أَنَلهاI attain it فَكَماthen just as رُمتُهُI sought it
فَإِن أَنَلها فَكَما رُمتُهُ
أَولاor if not فَقَدthen perhaps يَكذِبُنيmisleads me رائِديmy scout
أَولا فَقَد يَكذِبُني رائِدي
If I attain it, it is just as I desired;
The goal is death, so I do not reflect:
if not, my scout may mislead me.
Will my driver be in the morning or evening?
وَالغايَةُand the end المَوتُdeath فَماso what فِكرَتيmy concern
وَالغايَةُ المَوتُ فَما فِكرَتي
أَسائِقيis it my driver أَصبَحَhas become أَمor قائِديmy leader
أَسائِقي أَصبَحَ أَم قائِدي
And the end is death; why should I ponder
whether it has become my driver or my leader?
Partial English translation: 74 of 76 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1